You and the Jew
Listen as the snow falls
To the song the Jew composes
He who looks to the hills
Tends the fields and the young lambs
And suffers out of turn to be suffering
See how the Jew
Who knew nothing of the art of the sea
Yet lays no hand of claim upon the land
Walks distant among the hills and stony paths
That lead him on to a barren tree
You must burn if you seek him now
Under high suns which crack the skin
Until you find his small barren tree
His eyes failing as the fine print dances
Like fireflies in the light of evening
You may finally locate his name
In computer files of grubby visa sections
Accented by tongues that never come to rest
In conference rooms and airline terminals
In trains that run on single tracks
But if you find him, don’t expect
To live with more than light on the horizon
For the hands that long to overturn the candle
And their mouths that hunger to swallow the flame
Will occupy your trails ever again.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Single Candle/Death Herself
A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death
Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead
Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death
Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death
Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?
Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see
Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead
A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death
A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials
A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself
A single candle
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The New Man
THE hands must touch and handle many things,
The eyes long waste their glances all in vain;
The feet course still in idle, mazy rings,
E'er man himself, the lost, shall back regain;
The hand that ever moves, the eyes that see,
While day holds out his shining lamp on high,
And strait as flies the honey-seeking bee,
Direct the feet to unseen flowers they spy,
These, when they come, the man revealed from heaven,
Shall labor all the day in quiet rest,
And find at eve the covert duly given,
Where with the bird they find sweet sleep and rest;
That shall their wasted strength to health restore,
And bid them seek the morn the hills and fields once more.
poem by Jones Very
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Beyond The Distant Hills
The sun is shining for me,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love is waiting,
for my return.
The water is sweet to drink,
beyond the distant hills,
where a warm fire is waiting,
for my return.
The grass bends in the breeze,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love’s heart yearns
for my return.
A candle lights a window,
beyond the distant hills.
Where someone keeps a watchful eye,
for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
where no clouds gather,
and no storms darken the sky.
Beyond the distant hills,
bright eyes wait for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
my dreams will come true,
and I promised myself one day I will get there.
25 April 1988
poem by David Harris
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The Wild Old Wicked Man
BECAUSE I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'Kind are all your words, my dear,
Do not the rest withhold.
Who can know the year, my dear,
when an old man's blood grows cold? '
I have what no young man can have
Because he loves too much.
Words I have that can pierce the heart,
But what can he do but touch?'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
Then Said she to that wild old man,
His stout stick under his hand,
'Love to give or to withhold
Is not at my command.
I gave it all to an older man:
That old man in the skies.
Hands that are busy with His beads
Can never close those eyes.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'Go your ways, O go your ways,
I choose another mark,
Girls down on the seashore
Who understand the dark;
Bawdy talk for the fishermen;
A dance for the fisher-lads;
When dark hangs upon the water
They turn down their beds.
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'A young man in the dark am I,
But a wild old man in the light,
That can make a cat laugh, or
Can touch by mother wit
Things hid in their marrow-bones
From time long passed away,
Hid from all those warty lads
That by their bodies lay.
Dayhreak and a candle-end.
'All men live in suffering,
I know as few can know,
Whether they take the upper road
Or stay content on the low,
Rower bent in his row-boat
Or weaver bent at his loom,
Horseman erect upon horseback
Or child hid in the womb.
Daybreak and a candlc-cnd.
'That some stream of lightning
From the old man in the skies
Can burn out that suffering
No right-taught man denies.
But a coarse old man am I,
I choose the second-best,
I forget it all awhile
Upon a woman's breast.'
Daybreak and a candlc-end.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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You Are Not Going to Play With Me Today
You are so far removed from my to do list.
So distant you are,
My binoculars can not locate you.
I never thought I would feel this way.
But I am looking for a mind easier to find.
And yours?
It is never where you claim it to be,
Even when you bring it.
Playing peek-a-boo and hide and seek...
Chase-me-until-you-find-me games,
Were fine when I was a 'kid' in my 40's!
But one of us has grayed and moved on...
To seek a more muture outlook that pleases.
Don't smile and grin.
You are not that far from the fringes of this explanation.
Well...
Maybe you are.
When some of us became adults...
You decided to take another destination.
And I'm not adding that to my frustrations.
Of which you have helped to manifest.
You are so far removed from my to do list.
So distant you are,
My binoculars can not locate you.
I never thought I would feel this way.
But I am looking for a mind easier to find.
And yours?
It is never where you claim it to be,
Even when you bring it.
You are 'not' going to play with me today.
I have run out of scotch.
And my neighbors are not yet quite convinced...
My standing on the ledge of the building,
Is to get away from your voice.
They believe I have other wishes.
Even though I tell them I am fine...
You tell them I am having problems.
But you never tell them you are the main one!
They think I am the one who is 'nuts'!
However...
Five minutes with you,
Should end any clues I might drop!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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God's Christmas Tree
The traveler told me,
That He had walked far.
And He knew,
He had not much father to go,
Than He asked me,
Did I see the Christmas tree,
With a bright star,
covered in blankets of snow,
Fighting for life,
against nature and man's war.
Needing to find peace for the soul,
Touched by a angel's tear.
Standing alone out in the cold.
Once there was a little Christmas tree,
Adorned with a heavenly star,
Covered with soft blankets of snow,
every year,
The little tree would grow.
Sometime someone would come along.
Leaving footprints in the falling snow,
When they are far from home,
Somewhere out in the cold.
They could see the star on the tree,
Covered with soft blankets of snow.
The little Christmas tree seems to glow.
Decorated By God's hand.
A gift for every man.
A soft light,
in the dark night,
Offering peace for the soul.
See God's Christmas tree,
Adorned with a heavenly star,
A reminder of love,
A star from above,
For the world to see.
God's Christmas tree.
He didn't choose the tallest.
tree in the forest.
He saw that little tree stand alone.
A place where the soul can rest,
While the traveler walks home.
Did you see?
God's Christmas tree.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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Sonnet: A Sterile Person
I am a river-bed that’s dry for long;
There was no rain in the mountains up-stream;
Neither is there melting of snow, bird-song;
Utterly shattered is my watery-dream.
I am a barren desert formed from ground;
My lips are parched as rains can never come;
My verdure gone, men look at me dumbfound;
A sea of sand, I cannot one welcome.
I am a tree with leaves and no flowers;
I am a tree with flowers, yet no fruit;
I have not changed despite many showers;
Oh, how I wish I could sever my root.
But live I must despite my barren life!
For my soul’s sake, suffer I must more strife.
7-1-2002 by Dr John Celes
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh unchanging tree
Such a beautiful thing Is a tree.
In summer, in winter, in spring, in fall
the beauty of a tree, doesn't change at all
The leaves fall to the ground
all the richest beautiful color
can be found
The snow falls
but it doesn't hurt the tree,
it just lays on it's branches
like frosting on a cake
Then it gets warm, the snow melts.
Say goodbye to to winter, say hello to sping.
New life is such a beautiful thing
But so is the tree, the beautiful mighty tree.
That stands alone as the seasons pass
as when you were old or just a lass.
A tree must have a heart, because when it falls to the ground.
No Joy can be found..
So when you see a tree say hello, they can get lonely you know.
Tell them a story, tell them a poem, they will listen.
This I know
poem by Summer Song
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Distant Light
Distant light flickers an invitation of hope.
In reaching it, there will be sanctification.
Dimness that surrounds the eyes
will be forgotten.
Black holes that open the heart
will be discarded.
Let the distant light come closer.
Let the distant light be a friend.
Shallow water cannot drown soul.
It can only hinder the passage.
Dampening the spirit as it frolics
like a moonbeam across the mind.
Distance lends unhappiness.
Let the distant light shine bright.
Let the distant light be a guide.
In closets of blackness the hands
seek an opening in the shadows.
They find nothing, but the eyes
focus on a distant light that
calls like a radio in the night.
Let the distant light embrace.
Let the distant light be closer.
In an emptiness of broken glass
there is a pattern to salvation.
Frame the light like fire in the glance,
walk towards it. Find escape.
Let the distant light be strong.
Let the distant light shine forever.
What is the distant light that shines?
What is its meaning in a journey?
This is an answer not easily explained.
This is a hope not readily known.
Let the distant light continue.
Let the distant light always shine.
poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt
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Right The Wrong
An indian woman buried her grampa in the black hills
When she was young he used to tell her
That these hills belonged to her still
And even though injustice took them hills away
One day well get them back, he said
And the suns gonna shine that day
When we say, right the wrong
Before she laid him down to rest
She heard his voice in the wilderness
Sayin I got six feet of it back
And now we can right the wrong
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame
Did you hear the one about the boy just 17
Three years hard time for stealing ice cream
First offence and all his dreams are gone
How long before they right the wrong?
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame
Right the wrong
2, 3, uh
1, 2, 1-2, come on
(right the wrong baby)
Far be it from me to say
It seem like we could stop the flow of snow in the sky today
But I guess the weather man he likes the rain
Aint that insane
Now sing
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame?
(come on, come on, come on)
Did you hear me baby?
Right the wrong
Im 6 feet in the grave
Im 6 feet in the grave
(right right, right right)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
Right the wrong (right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
Right the wrong (right the wrong right the wrong)
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust (right the wrong right the wrong)
This young man with a talented soul (right the wrong right the wrong)
Died when he wanted 2. (right the wrong right the wrong)
The [life/light]that lives (right the wrong right the wrong)
So he shall not be pitied
Nor shall the guity be forgiven
Until they find it in their hearts to
Right the wrong
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look at a tree
If you have a problem seek out a tree,
Look you idiot look and you'll see.
Open your eyes and open your soul,
Look at the tree look and you'll know.
See the sun glint through the leaves
See the bark the colours the light this weaves.
See the beauty look at the light,
Look and you'll start feeling alright.
Once now and then, Once in a while
Look at a tree, really look at a tree.
You will notice different colours as light falls on a branch,
This is not a mistake this is not by chance.
There is beauty and wonder in nature you see
Look at a tree look and you'll see.
poem by Scott Winter
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The Orange Tree
The young girl stood beside me.
I Saw not what her young eyes could see:
- A light, she said, not of the sky
Lives somewhere in the Orange Tree.
- Is it, I said, of east or west?
The heartbeat of a luminous boy
Who with his faltering flute confessed
Only the edges of his joy?
Was he, I said, borne to the blue
In a mad escapade of Spring
Ere he could make a fond adieu
To his love in the blossoming?
- Listen! the young girl said. There calls
No voice, no music beats on me;
But it is almost sound: it falls
This evening on the Orange Tree.
- Does he, I said, so fear the Spring
Ere the white sap too far can climb?
See in the full gold evening
All happenings of the olden time?
Is he so goaded by the green?
Does the compulsion of the dew
Make him unknowable but keen
Asking with beauty of the blue?
- Listen! the young girl said. For all
Your hapless talk you fail to see
There is a light, a step, a call
This evening on the Orange Tree.
- Is it, 1 said, a waste of love
Imperishably old in pain,
Moving as an affrighted dove
Under the sunlight or the rain?
Is it a fluttering heart that gave
Too willingly and was reviled?
Is it the stammering at a grave,
The last word of a little child?
- Silence! the young girl said. Oh, why,
Why will you talk to weary me?
Plague me no longer now, for I
Am listening like the Orange Tree.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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The Tree (a Repost)
the tree
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i am there
the big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
of that big old tree
we all look up
it is so high
and we do not
climb it anyhow
we fear
and
perhaps we too pay respect
for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hit it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Indestructible Tree.
Rugged desert_
an unbriddled melancholy wind blows
Scattering sparks of fire,
There is no tree in Shatil Arab,
only the simoom’s voice moans all around.
In the palace of the Sheikh, though,
a few khayyamesque gardens exist
on whose blue carpets you’ll find
the finest wine of the world
and an enamoured saki with her lovely eyes.
Oblivious of his tent and the far away horizon’s call
the intrepid Bedouin has taken refuge
in the soft white abode of sex
in the Sheikh’s khayyamesque gardens.
Outside all trees have been singed by fire,
not even a cactus grows
in the barren land.
And yet an indestructible tree stands there
in the bronze-hot red soil of burning Palestine,
a miracle-tree with soft and green and serene
and large leaves.
All the good winds of the world
blow on that tree,
all the birds of the world sing there
with the tune of the seven seas on their lips.
In the murmuring leaves of this tree
only one tune plays
only one symphony,
only one sacred hymn,
only the undying joy
of men gathered on a temporary sojourn
expressed in their cry;
Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
Because of this the dark hand of the demon
rises from the setting sun
bent on destroying that tree.
They wont let a single tree live
in the third world.
And so, the arrogant demon blasts
the heart of this tree into shreds.
Missile after missile from their F16 military planes
hit the trunk of this tree
tearing it asunder,
and yet this tree does not die.
Hundreds and hundreds of Palestinians
pour on it their holy and fertile blood
in a bid to keep it alive.
The demon’s dark hands turn red
with the blood of the heroic martyrs.
Shunts of condemnation fill the air.
And their angry planes return to camp
after the onslaught is over.
But the indestructible tree still stands
and keep awake.
Breathing in the unlimited cool breeze of the sea
the tender young leaves of the indestructible tree
recites in silence the sacred incantation
of Freedom.
This indestructible tree will not die, never ever.
This indestructible tree cannot die.
-
poem by Shafiqul Islam
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Blues In Minor Key
'Twas a lovely night in gay Paree
The stagelight was beating on him and me
He took my heart and spoke so well
And told me things no one else could tell
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
He was a lonely tramp in the world of rhyme
With words that caught me just in time
I gave him my body I gave him my soul
In front of the stage I played my role
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
The chimes of freedom rang that night
And stars in heaven were shining bright
The songs he sang were like ice and fire
Leading me through the bush and brier
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
Behind his mask and behind his name
He left the stage with nothin' to claim
Like a shooting star in the empty skies
Our love was done without any ties
And far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
And far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key....
Copyright © 2011 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved
poem by Göran Gustafsson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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44
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i was there
a big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
by that big old tree
we all looked upon
it was so high
and we did not
climb it anyhow
for fear
and
perhaps respect for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hits it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tree
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i was there
a big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
by that big old tree
we all looked upon
it was so high
and we did not
climb it anyhow
for fear
and
perhaps respect for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hits it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The tree
When the big tree falls
Hit by lightning
Roared by thunder
When the big tree finally falls
And I was there
A big sound
Of a giant old tree
Falling finally to the ground
The arrogance
That used to be
By that big old tree
We all looked upon
It was so high
And we did not
Climb it anyhow
For fear
And
Perhaps respect for its grandeur
And today this big tree falls
Hit by lightning and roared by thunder
The universe claps upon the
Fall of arrogance and pride
And a tree's belief about
Its hugeness and
Strength
Now this tree falls
And I am here watching it
You are not here
You are in some foreign country
How can I tell you
That this tree has fallen
And there is nothing to fear anymore?
When a tree falls and you are not there
Your logic tells
There is no tree
There is no tree of such strength and posture
There is no tree like that
That can ever fall
All because a lightning hits it
And all because the thunder roared
Without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beginning Just Begun!
we walk barefoot the stony path,
in the company of crows.
our eyes wet with the dew,
dreams clinging to our tongues.
and the song of the ancient ones,
from some dark valley within.
we carry the cross of self denial,
on the path to find ourselves!
to the beat down house
that time forgot...
up the steps to an open door.
while spiders race across broken glass,
and rats race across the floor.
we sit across the table,
and light a single candle.
then one by one confess our thoughts,
and undress the pain of being.
then drained, and strangely empty,
warmed with release,
we touch fingers beneath the flame,
and whisper silent prayers.
and rising walk out together,
companions first, then lovers...
we find the world, both new and just born,
as if beginning just begun!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of The Evergreens
Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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